Recovering
by KaitlynRose
Summary: Sequel to The Unwanted Guest. Marguerite is struggling to recover from her terrible ordeal. A trip to help her get her mind off it lands them in a very strange place.


I do not own these characters in any way. Please don't sue!  
  
  
This story is the sequel to The Unwanted Guest. I hope you enjoy it.  
  
  
RECOVERING  
  
  
  
Two weeks had passed since Harcourt had tried to kill Marguerite. Her   
bruises had healed, but she hadn't fully recovered from the incident. Roxton sat in   
his chair staring at Marguerite as she stood on the balcony. Once again she was   
just staring off into space like so many others times in the past two weeks. She had   
gone from being strong and independent to nervous and afraid. It broke his heart   
to see her spirit broken like this. She never wanted to leave the tree house   
anymore. For that matter she didn't want anyone else to leave the tree house   
either. If someone was late to return for some reason she began to panic.  
  
He had tried to get her to talk to him, to share her feelings with him, but she   
had simply said she didn't want to talk about it. She told him that she wanted to   
put the whole thing out of her mind. Roxton suspected that she couldn't put it out   
of her mind. He knew that night haunted her every night in her dreams. He had   
lost count of the number of times she had awaken in cold sweats from a nightmare.  
  
Once again she had closed herself off from everyone, retreating into herself   
like only she could. Someone put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see   
Challenger standing behind him.  
  
"How is she doing?" he asked. He had spend much of the last two days in   
the lab studying up to see what kind of disease had struck the Zanga people. He   
had been able to cure most of them with a homemade antibiotic potion he   
concocted, but he still hadn't figured out what disease had actually made the   
people sick. He and Veronica had been lucky not to catch it.  
  
"She hasn't changed," Roxton replied. "She just stares out into space like   
that. She doesn't want to talk to no one, she worries constantly about the rest of   
us, and the nightmares. The nightmares are getting worse. I don't think anyone   
has gotten a full night's sleep since it happened. I don't know what to do."  
  
"There's nothing you can do. Marguerite needs to work this out for herself.   
And as the saying goes, time heals all wounds. Be patient with her."  
  
"Thanks, professor."  
  
  
  
  
Malone slowly pulled back from his kiss. Veronica smiled at him.  
  
"I've been waiting a long time for you to do that," she said. "What made   
you finally do it."  
  
"Marguerite," he said.  
  
"She told you to kiss me?" she asked.  
  
"No, that's not what I mean. I saw Roxton almost lose her, and I saw   
Roxton fight to do everything in his power to save her. As desperate as that   
situation was, I found myself envying what they had. Veronica, I've loved you for   
a very long time, but I was too gentlemanly to act. Plus, part of me felt guilty for   
Gladys' sake. But that night I realized that at any moment something can happen   
in this place. Life is too short to keep putting off till tomorrow."  
  
Veronica touched her hand to his face and said, "Ned, I love you too."  
  
  
  
  
Roxton walked out onto the balcony. He stood next to her and looked to see   
what she was staring at. Down below Malone and Veronica were leaning against a   
tree talking. Malone leaned in and gave her a kiss.  
  
"About time," Marguerite said.  
  
"You know you shouldn't be snooping like this," he whispered.  
  
"I know. I just wanted to make sure they didn't wander off too far," she   
replied.  
  
"I think Ned and Veronica know how to take care of themselves. And   
besides, if anything happened we would hear them if they yelled," Roxton told her.  
  
"I know, it's just..." she trailed off and never finished.  
  
"Marguerite, please tell me what you were going to say."  
  
"Don't worry. It was just something silly," she replied.  
  
"I don't care, tell me anyway," he said.  
  
"Roxton please, I don't want to talk about it. It's not important."  
  
"Not important? How can you say that. You spend every waking moment   
thinking about what happened two weeks ago. You spend your nights crying out   
in terror over it. Please don't shut me out. Let me help you." The desperation in   
his voice was growing by the second.  
  
"Roxton, please, just leave me alone."  
  
  
  
  
That night Marguerite dreamed once again about Harcourt. She saw herself   
tying up Roxton. She felt the sting of Harcourt's blows to her face. She heard the   
metal snap of the cold handcuffs. She saw Harcourt drag her beaten body into the   
bedroom as if she were on the outside looking in. She heard the angry curses John   
screamed at Harcourt. But now the dream changed from reality. In her dreams she   
felt Harcourt violating her, and she felt the blade slicing...  
  
Marguerite screamed and screamed. Roxton was there shaking her, waking   
her from her never ending nightmare. At first she was still in a panic and she   
struck at him wildly. He managed to dodge her blows and called her name.  
  
"Marguerite, wake up. Marguerite, stop it!" he yelled.  
  
Marguerite finally began to calm down. Roxton pulled her into his arms and   
held her.   
  
"Is she okay?" a sleepy Malone asked. He was starting to get used to   
waking up every night. For that matter the whole house was.  
  
"Go back to bed," Roxton said. "It was another nightmare."  
  
"Alright, good night," Malone said and closed the door.  
  
Marguerite pushed Roxton away from her and then stood up. She walked   
out of her room into the main living quarters. She walked over to where Roxton   
kept his stash of bourbon and poured herself a glass. She downed it in one   
swallow, and then she poured another. She didn't get to drink it though. Roxton   
took the glass from her hand and set it on the table.  
  
"Give it back," she said.  
  
"Marguerite, believe me, no problem was ever solved by a bottle of liquor.   
I'm actually an expert on that subject. All I ever got was a lot of headaches, but   
never any solutions."  
  
"I don't want a solution," she said. "I just want a little piece of oblivion for   
just a little while. For a little while I don't want to think or feel anything."  
  
"Marguerite, please, talk to me, let me help you," Roxton pleaded.  
  
"You can't help me. It's your fault I'm going through this in the first place.   
I didn't want to care. I didn't want to feel anything. I spent years teaching myself   
how to ignore my feelings. How to not love anything or anyone but myself. Then   
you came along and all that changed and now I care. I care so much that it terrifies   
me. I don't want to be alone. I don't ever want to feel helpless ever again," she   
cried.   
  
She turned to face Roxton and began to beat him in the chest. "You made   
me care! You made me love you and...and."  
  
Roxton grabbed her around the waist and she collapsed into his arms crying.   
He just held her and let her cry. He didn't try to calm her or shush her. He figured   
she needed to do this if she were going to move on. After several minutes she   
began to calm down on her own. Roxton took his hand and wiped the tears from   
her face.  
  
"I'm sorry," she finally said.  
  
"For what? For crying? For feeling? Marguerite, something terrible   
happened to you and you have every right to be angry or afraid."  
  
"I just don't want to lose you. When Harcourt finally...when he...I just kept   
thinking, I can't die now. I can't, not when I had finally found love. My whole   
life I had waited for someone to love me. To care if I lived or died. And then   
when I finally knew what love was...it...it just didn't seem fair."  
  
"But you didn't die, sweetheart. You're standing right here in front of me   
and I still love you. You can't spend the rest of your life thinking about what   
might have happened. Believe me I know. I've spent years reliving my brother's   
death. I still think to this day what could I have done to save Summerlee. And   
now I feel responsible for what happened to you. I knew Harcourt was dangerous.   
I knew it and I failed to stop him."  
  
"Don't," Marguerite said. "It's not your fault."  
  
"But it is. I could have thrown him out. I could have taken the first watch   
instead of Malone. I should have paid better attention to my instincts."  
  
"Roxton, please don't blame yourself," Marguerite pleaded.  
  
"It's not easy for me not to. Just like it's not easy for you to let go of what   
happened. But if we have to suffer this out, shouldn't we go through it together.   
Let me help you with your fears, and maybe you can help me with my guilt."  
  
She looked at him and nodded her head yes, and then she wrapped her arms   
around his neck and hugged him tight.  
  
  
  
  
The next morning everyone was at the table. The professor wanted to have a   
party go out and explore a section of caves they had come across about a month   
earlier. Everyone was surprised when Marguerite was the first to volunteer.  
  
"Are you sure you want to?" Roxton asked.  
  
"Yes," she said, "it's time for me to get back on the horse as they say."  
  
Roxton smiled at her. "Well, I guess you can count me in on this little trip."  
  
"Splendid," Challenger said. Then he looked at Malone, who was oblivious   
to what had just happened. He was too enraptured with Veronica to care.  
  
"What?" he asked sheepishly. Everyone just laughed.  
  
  
  
Five days later:  
  
"Admit it already, we're lost!"  
  
"We are not lost."  
  
"Then, pray tell Lord Roxton, just where are we?"  
  
"I don't know, Marguerite."  
  
"Then by definition, doesn't that mean we are lost?"   
  
Roxton didn't answer her. He just gave an infuriated little moan. This little   
venture had been a waste of time. They had explored Challenger's caves only to   
find that once again there was no way out. Now, what should have taken them just   
two days to return home, was in the middle of it's third day. But the trip really   
hadn't been a total waste. Actually, it had done wonders for Marguerite. The first   
day she had been quiet and a bit nervous, but she soon eased up and was slowly   
getting her old fire back in her. Last night she actually slept and didn't have a   
nightmare.  
  
"That's it!" she said. She sat down on the ground. "I'm not moving   
another inch until you figure out which way we are supposed to go."  
  
"Marguerite, please, now is not the time to throw a tamper tantrum," he   
warned.  
  
"Actually, I happen to think it is the perfect time. We are lost and I get the   
feeling that we are moving father away from the tree house as opposed to getting   
closer to it."  
  
He hated to admit it but she was right. He had expected half as much   
himself. If he could just get to higher ground he might be able to see a familiar   
land mark to help set them on the right course.   
  
"Stay here," he told her.   
  
"Not to worry, I'm not going anywhere," she replied.  
  
"You must be feeling better, you're back to being a pain in the ass," he said.  
  
"Yes, but would you really want me any other way?" she teased, and then   
she unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her camisole, and fanned herself lightly with   
her hat.  
  
He bent over like he was going to kiss her, but as soon as she leaned in to   
kiss him back he pulled back quickly. He flashed her a mocking smile and stood   
up.  
  
"Now who's the tease," she joked.  
  
"Contrary to what you may believe I'm not a slave to all your charms," he   
said.  
  
"Just most of them," she laughed. He just shook his head at her.  
  
He took off his pack and set it next to her. He climbed up on a boulder and   
then jumped up to reach the lowest branch on the nearest tree. He pulled himself   
up and carefully began to climb. Marguerite watched as he made his way up. It   
took several minutes for him to get almost to the top. He couldn't go any higher   
because the slender branches wouldn't support his weight. He saw a familiar   
mountain range to the east of them. And there was the big river that ran across the   
plateau. Okay, he had a general idea of where to go now.  
  
"ROXTON!"  
  
He looked down to see Marguerite being attacked by at least five cannibals.   
He quickly began to descend from the tree. He didn't call out to her because he   
didn't want to let the cannibals know where he was.  
  
Marguerite pulled her pistol and shot two of the cannibals before the third   
one managed to knock her down, slinging the pistol out of her hand. She kicked   
and scratched at her attackers. One grabbed her feet and legs while another   
grabbed her around the chest. They lifted her off the ground and began to carry her   
away. The third cannibal ran behind them.  
  
"Let me go," she called out in their tongue. "The gods will be angry with   
you if you hurt me."  
  
They completely ignored her threats. They carried her into their little camp   
that had only been about a hundred feet away. She could see about twelve of them   
all together.   
  
  
  
By the time Roxton hit the ground Marguerite was gone, but he saw their   
trail easy enough. He grabbed his rifles and Marguerite's pistol and took off in   
their direction. He had to find her.  
  
  
  
Marguerite was being tied to what looked like a wooden table, hands bound   
above her head and feet also tied down. A large man walked up to her. Her eyes   
never left the knife in his hands. They weren't going to waste anytime. She was to   
be dinner, now! She screamed as she watched the man raise the knife high in the   
air ready to plunge it down into her.  
  
A shot rang out and the knife wielding cannibal fell to the ground. Roxton   
quickly shot the second chamber in his rifle taking out another native. He had the   
pistol in his other hand and emptied the four remaining bullets, each into another   
native. The remaining cannibals decided to flee. Besides, they had plenty to eat   
now, even if they did get away.  
  
Roxton whipped out his knife and cut Marguerite free from the table.  
  
"Time to leave," he said.  
  
"Gladly."  
  
Roxton grabbed her hand and together they took off running into the woods.   
Roxton saw that while the cannibals were hanging back, they were still being   
pursued.  
  
"These guys must think you would be awfully tasty," Roxton said.  
  
"Why is it men always want me for my body?" Marguerite joked.  
  
"I'm probably the wrong person to ask since I'm rather partial to it myself."   
Suddenly Roxton saw something he had seen only once before on this plateau.   
Lying before them was what looked to be a castle surrounded by a moat. "What   
on earth is that doing here?"   
  
"I don't know," Marguerite said, "but I suggest we see if we can hide out in   
there."  
  
"Let's go," Roxton ordered.  
  
They ran across the draw bridge only to have it rise as soon as they were   
across. They both stopped to catch their breath. Roxton looked at her.  
  
"Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"  
  
"I'm fine, you came just in time," she said.  
  
Roxton embraced her and held her for a moment. He could feel her heart   
pounding threw her chest.  
  
"I must say, though, I'm getting just a little tired of having knife wielding   
crazy people trying to kill me."  
  
"Well, they'll have to get through me first," he said.  
  
"My hero," Marguerite purred as she tightened her embrace once more.  
  
"I guess we should find out just who we are intruding on," he said.  
  
He released her and they both took their first look around. There was the   
castle in the center of the walled village. It was rather small as castles go. The   
ones across England were much larger. Then there were several small houses that   
looked like they were made for the guards to use during duty. But something was   
missing, people. There was nobody to see. Each looked in their own direction.   
Roxton looked back at the bridge. No one was there, but someone had to have   
been. Someone had to have raised it.  
  
"Roxton, this place is creepy," Marguerite whispered.  
  
"Don't worry, there has to be someone around. I mean, who closed the   
gate?"  
  
"Maybe we should leave. I'm sure the cannibals are busy dinning at the   
moment. We can probably slip right past them."  
  
"Marguerite, calm down. Let's see if we can find someone."  
  
"Fine, just don't lose me. The last castle we were in we all got separated,   
not to mention possessed."  
  
He took her hand in his, "Don't worry, I won't lose you."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Promise."  
  
Slowly they walked towards the castle. It looked as if it had been abandoned   
for a while. One side of the tower had fallen away. All the rooms appeared to be   
dark. The overcast sky helped to give it a gloomy appearance.  
  
"Hello?" Roxton called out. He waited a minute for a reply that never came.  
  
As they neared the castle doors they saw that they were open. They went   
inside. The castle smelled musty from disuse. There were torches all along the   
walls. Roxton picked one up and had Marguerite hold it. He took his flints and lit   
it. Then he took the torch and lit the others on the wall. The room looked better   
instantly, though cobwebs were everywhere. It was obvious that no one had been   
here for a long time.  
  
From the entrance they could see large doors on either side and on the back   
wall was an opening that seemed to lead to a hallway that went in both directions   
down the length of the castle.  
  
"Where to?" Roxton asked.  
  
"How about out of here?" Marguerite replied.  
  
"You mean you don't even want to search the place for possible gold and   
jewels?"  
  
That got Marguerite's attention. "I hadn't thought of that, but at least I   
know you still think me greedy and selfish." With that she took a torch off the   
wall and turned away and opened one of the big doors.  
  
"Marguerite, I didn't mean anything," Roxton said following her.  
  
She was about to reply when a black crow flew past her head, scaring her.   
She flinched and dropped her torch. Roxton picked it up quickly and handed it   
back to her.  
  
"Roxton, I don't like this place and I want to leave," she insisted.  
  
No sooner had the words left her mouth when lightning flashed in threw the   
windows and thunder rumbled. They stepped back into the entrance room to see   
the rain pounding on the ground.  
  
"We might as well stay dry. We will wait until the rain stops and then we   
can go. Or would you prefer to be cold and wet?" he asked.  
  
"Fine, we stay for the storm," she relented.  
  
He smiled at her. "You know, your beautiful when your scared."  
  
"I'm not scared," she retorted. "I just don't like this place. With our luck,   
it's probably full of dead bodies and skeletons..." she said as she continued to   
walk into the room, "...like those!" She leaned back into Roxton and pointed.  
  
He placed a protective arm around her waist and looked at what she was   
pointing at. Sitting around a large formal dining table were at least twenty corpses.   
Several had swords through them. Some of the corpses were those of children.   
Obviously the family had been slain. Maybe a revolt by the village, no way to   
know for sure.  
  
"Stay here," Roxton told Marguerite as he walked over to the table to take a   
closer look. He noticed that who ever had done this wasn't looking to just rob. All   
the bodies were dressed in what would have been beautiful garments, and covered   
in jewels hanging crookedly over the now deformed and rotten bodies. He walked   
to the head of the table were he saw a male skeleton. Lying in the floor next to the   
chair it sat in was something shiny. Roxton bent down to pick it up. It was a   
crown. "Looks like this was the royal families last dinner." Roxton set the crown   
down next to the man who once wore it.  
  
Marguerite saw a small cradle against the wall. She walked over and gasped   
when she saw the rotted body of a tiny infant.  
  
"Come, let's not stay here." He took her arm and led her back into the   
entrance.  
  
"Marguerite, stay here. I'm going to find an empty room for us. Maybe we   
can get a fire going."  
  
"No you don't. You promised not to let us get separated."  
  
"I'm just going in the next room," he replied.  
  
"Then so am I," she said.  
  
He looked at her and saw a scared little child before him. He smiled and   
caressed her cheek with his hand. "You're right, we should stick together. Just   
stay behind me, all right."  
  
She returned his smile and nodded. They went into the room on the other   
side. Roxton saw that there were no corpses in here, so he opened the door all the   
way and went inside. This room was very large and looked to have been a ball   
room. The room was void of furniture except for some chairs hugging the walls,   
out of the way of the dancers. They went inside and their foot steps echoed   
through the room.  
  
"We can probably find a sitting room upstairs in the family quarters," he   
said. He led the way out and they went into the hallway to find a place to rest.   
The corridor had large windows that allowed them to see into the yard behind the   
castle. The gardens had grown wild over the years. Roxton opened a door and   
found stairs leading down into what had once been the kitchen garden. He could   
still see the little markers that served to tell what vegetables were growing where.   
Looking at the garden made him remember that he had left their packs in the   
jungle, along with the little bit of food that they had left.  
  
"Marguerite, I'm not leaving you. Just stay right here in this door way   
where you can see me. I'm going to go see if I can find anything still growing in   
the garden. Hopefully I can get us something to eat."  
  
He dashed out into the rain and started looking for anything he could find.   
Surprisingly, there were many vegetables still growing, you just had to search   
between the tall weeds that had taken over. Also, much of it was rotten or had   
been eaten by bugs. However, he did finally find a few things that were still   
edible. He had good luck with potatoes, carrots, and onions. He grabbed several   
of each. He also found a few small tomatoes and cucumbers. They were a bit   
small, but they seemed ripe enough to eat. He used the front of his shirt to carry   
his little horde in and ran back to Marguerite.  
  
"You're soaked," she said.  
  
"It was worth it," he replied. "At least we won't go hungry today."  
  
"Maybe we can find the kitchen and a pot," she replied.  
  
"Come, the kitchen will be off of the dining room."  
  
"You mean we have to go back there?" she asked.  
  
"Afraid so, if you want to eat that is. Or we can find a room for you to stay   
in and I can go alone."  
  
"Not a chance. It's back to the dinning room we go."  
  
  
  
Marguerite was surprised to find that this time the dinning room didn't seem   
nearly as terrible. Now that the shock was over, and the fact that they were here   
for a purpose. She walked right past the corpses, not stopping to look at them.   
They went through a swinging door into the kitchen. They had no problem finding   
a pot. They were everywhere, as were cabinets filled with dishes and glasses.   
  
Marguerite saw a sink with a hand pump. "Roxton, put the vegetable here."   
He set them down and she went about washing them. She set the clean vegetables   
on the table and with a knife started peeling and cutting them.   
  
Roxton started a fire in the in the fire place. He also lit several torches on   
the walls. Soon the kitchen glowed and actually felt rather homey. He saw that   
Marguerite was still dicing. He began to open cupboard doors to see what else was   
available to them. The castle seemed to have no shortage of mice. He found sacks   
of flour but they were no good. Mold had begun to grow on them.  
  
"Well, what have we here?" he said smiling. He pulled out several bottles.  
  
"What did you find?"  
  
"An endless supply of red wine I think." He removed the cork from one of   
the bottles. He smelled the contents for a moment to be sure. Marguerite came   
over and handed him a glass. He poured some of the contents into it and looked at   
it closely. It looked and smelled okay. He took a small sip.   
  
"Any good?" Marguerite asked.  
  
"It just fine. In fact it's rather good," he replied. "We'll take a few bottles   
with us."  
  
Marguerite put the cut up potatoes, carrots, and onions into a small pot with   
water in it. The tomatoes and cucumbers she cut up and left them raw in a bowl.   
  
"Do you think we can take the this stuff and find another room?" she asked.   
"We can boil the vegetables over any fire place. I just really would rather find   
somewhere else to be." The thought of what was in the next room was still   
bothering her.  
  
"Of course," he said. Roxton grabbed a table cloth form a cupboard and laid   
in it two plates, two glasses, some silverware, a few bottles of wine, along with   
some utensils. He pulled the corners up making an efficient sack.   
  
Marguerite followed him carrying the pot and bowl. They walked quickly   
through the dinning area and went back to the corridor. At the end was a stairway.   
They went up and saw another long corridor with a dozen different doorways   
leading to various rooms. Roxton walked to where he thought the master living   
quarters would be. He opened the door and looked inside first. He had been right,   
and there were no bodies. He opened the door all the way and proceeded inside.   
He set his sack on the large bed and used his torch to start the fireplace going.   
Then he lit all the torches.   
  
Marguerite set the food on an elaborate table and looked admiringly at the   
room before her. It was dusty and had cobwebs in the corners and on the   
chandeliers, but even in this state, it was beautiful. The furniture was all made of   
rich dark woods and the walls had exquisite tapestries hanging on them. The   
bedding was pure silk.  
  
"Roxton, where did all this stuff come from. I mean, it's a little out of date,   
but this place could pass for a British manor. How on earth did someone get all of   
this stuff here and why would they bring it. Silk and tapestries aren't exactly the   
type of thing you would take on an expedition. Plus, why would they bring enough   
to make their own little kingdom?"  
  
"Like so many things on this plateau, I think this will remain a mystery. But   
I have to agree, it doesn't make sense."  
  
Marguerite went over to the fireplace and hung the pot of vegetable on a   
hook so the could cook. Then she walked into an adjoining room.   
  
"Marguerite, wait," Roxton said. He grabbed his torch again along with his   
gun.   
  
She waited for him to join her. She watched him make a quick inspection of   
the little sitting room along with the two closets. She appreciated the concern he   
showed for her welfare. When he was convinced all was safe he went back into   
the bedroom and sat down by the fireplace. She walked into the first closet. It was   
filled with regal looking men's clothes. In the corner she found some thick heavy   
blankets. She grabbed a couple and took them to Roxton.  
  
"Here," she said. "Get out of those wet clothes and dry off."  
  
"Marguerite, if you want to get me out of my clothes you could try a   
friendlier approach," he said with a devilish grin.  
  
"If you want to be wet and get sick that is fine with me."  
  
"You tease," he laughed.  
  
Marguerite smiled and walked back to the other closet. This one was filled   
with glorious women's clothes. Most were totally in appropriate for jungle life.   
But then she found the lady's riding clothes. There were several pretty white   
blouses along with a couple of jackets. "Bingo," Marguerite said. She took the   
clothes off the hangers and folded them delicately. She took them back to the   
bedroom where she saw Roxton sitting comfortably in a large sofa that he had   
pulled up to the fire with a glass of wine in his hand. He had a blanket around his   
shoulders, but he had kept his pants on. His boots and socks were drying by the   
fire, as was his shirt.  
  
"Look," she said. "Finally, I can replace some on the blouses I've lost. Plus   
I found a couple of jackets. I don't suppose the previous occupants will miss   
these."  
  
"I don't know," Roxton said. "Their ghosts might not be too happy."  
  
"Very funny," she replied hands on her hips.  
  
"Actually, it's probably a good idea that we salvage some things from here   
before we return to the tree house. Mine and Ned's pants are starting to wear a   
little thin. Pretty soon we'll all be wearing outfits like Veronica."  
  
"You in a lion cloth," Marguerite laughed. "I think I could handle that."  
  
"Don't hold your breath," he smirked.  
  
"I'm sure you'll salvage some of that wine you seem to be enjoying so   
much. Just don't go getting tipsy on me."  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it, my dear."  
  
Marguerite walked over to a beautiful writing desk. Too bad there wasn't a   
way to take some of the furniture back, but even if they returned with everyone, it   
would just be too difficult and dangerous to lug furniture through the jungle. How   
in the world did this stuff get here she thought once again.  
  
"The Professor will be so happy," she said suddenly. "I found a whole pile   
of paper, oh, and here's ink."  
  
"You're right, he'll be ecstatic," Roxton agreed.  
  
Marguerite carried these over to her pile of clothes. Then she went to check   
on the cooking pot. She tested a potato. It was still hard in the center, but it   
wouldn't be too much longer before they were tender. She joined Roxton by the   
fire. She laid her head in his lap and stretched out across the long sofa.  
  
"Comfy?" he asked.  
  
"Very."  
  
Roxton tangled his fingers in her long hair and gently massaged her head.   
Marguerite felt so relaxed that she almost fell asleep, but when Roxton questioned   
her about the pot she forced herself up and went over to it. Carefully she scooped   
out the vegetables, leaving the liquid in the pot. She divided them evenly between   
the two plates. The she also divided the tomatoes and cucumbers.   
  
Roxton pulled the small table over to their sofa and then he poured   
Marguerite a glass of wine.  
  
"Wow, this feels so civilized," Marguerite said.  
  
"See, now aren't you glad we came here?" Roxton asked.  
  
"Well, as much as I hate to admit it, it does seem that it was a good idea.   
Although I'm still not to thrilled about the fact that there's a room filled with dead   
people."  
  
"Well, they can't hurt us, so there's no use in dwelling on them. Besides,   
when we leave tomorrow we will be able to take some much needed supplies with   
us. Clothes, the professor's paper and ink. I also want to fetch a few pots and   
pans, along with some butcher knives I saw in the kitchen. These blankets will be   
good to carry it all in. And yes, maybe even a bottle of wine or two."  
  
"Mmm, I have to agree, the wine is very good. I didn't realize how hungry I   
was till just now," Marguerite said taking a big bite of potato.   
  
By the end of diner Marguerite had had three glasses of wine and she had to   
admit that she was feeling quite tipsy, but she tried not to let Roxton see it.   
Especially since she was the one who told him not to get that way. It had just been   
so long since she had had alcohol that it went straight to her head. She stood up   
and looked longingly at the bed. Oh yes, that was where she wanted to be. A real   
bed with fluffy pillows and silk bedding. How luxurious!  
  
She looked outside. The rain was still falling gently against the window   
making such a soothing noise. A flash of lightning lit up the night sky. It was   
beautiful. She had no idea what time it was but she suspected it was probably   
about nine. She walked back to the closet. It didn't take her long to find what she   
was looking for.  
  
  
  
Roxton was still sitting in the sofa enjoying the peace and quiet. His pants   
were finally dry and the warmth of the fire felt very good. He listened to the rain.   
He had always loved a good thunder storm, as long as he could admire it from the   
inside. He was surprised by how at home he felt here. He had grown to accept   
that the tree house was home, and if he told the truth, he actually enjoyed it, but   
every now and then he had to admit that he missed the comforts of his previous life   
in London. He made his way to the fire and threw two more logs on it. Then he   
fell back into the sofa.  
  
All thoughts of London quickly left his mind when he saw Marguerite step   
back into the bedroom. He had assumed she was rummaging for more things to   
take, but instead she had went in search of something else. She was wearing a the   
most beautiful long, white, silk nightgown. It had a scalloped neckline and puffy   
little sleeves that just covered her shoulders. With her hair loose and pulled to the   
side, she looked like an angel. On her feet were delicate little satin slippers.  
  
"We are definitely taking that back to the tree house," he groaned.  
  
Marguerite smiled.   
  
He noticed that she had the slightest bit of a swagger to her walk. Too much   
wine he thought to himself. He stood up and walked over to her.  
  
"You are beautiful," he whispered. Then he kissed her, softly at first, but   
then more passionately.   
  
"John, I want you tonight," she purred.  
  
Without hesitating he scooped her up into his arms and carried her over to   
the bed. God how he loved this woman. For the next hour the only thing that   
existed was just her. Being with her could make him forget everything else in the   
world.  
  
  
  
Marguerite slipped back into the silk nightgown and got between the covers   
and snuggled up to Roxton.   
  
"Okay, I know you are going to think the worst of me when I say this, that   
I'm just being greedy and spoiled. But honestly, I'm being very sincere when I say   
this. Challenger still hasn't figured out a way to operate the electric fence and the   
tree house has been invaded several times. Maybe we should consider relocating   
here. Between the sturdy castle, the fortress walls, and the moat, this place just   
may be the safest location on the plateau."  
  
"I don't think your being greedy. The truth is, that thought had actually   
crossed my mind too. I don't know if the others would agree to it though,   
especially Veronica. If her parents are alive and come looking for her, they won't   
be able to find her."  
  
"This is going to sound simply cruel, but the chances of her parents being   
alive is almost nil."  
  
"I agree, but Veronica believes they are alive, and it's what she believes that   
matters."  
  
"But Roxton..."  
  
"Shh, no more talking. Go to sleep. We'll talk more in the morning," and   
with last he kissed her goodnight.  
  
Marguerite was exhausted. She kissed him on the cheek one last time and   
then closed her eyes. Still, she hoped that they could move into the castle, just as   
soon as they buried the previous occupants.  
  
  
  
  
  
From somewhere in the castle a clock stuck midnight. Roxton faintly was   
aware of the chimes, but he fought to ignore them and stay asleep. Then a loud   
thunder rumbled and actually shook the castle. Roxton's eyes flew open. He sat   
up and looked around. The torches had burned out, but the fire place still had a   
tiny fire left in it, casting a minimal glow around the room. It looked different, he   
realized. He got up, careful not to wake Marguerite. There were candelabras on   
both sides of the bed. Roxton struck a match and lit all the candles on his and then   
walked around the bed to light the one on Marguerites side. Now as he looked   
around the room he realized what was different. Everything was clean and new.   
How was that possible? He realized that he heard music. He walked quietly to the   
bedroom door and opened it. The music was louder. This is crazy he thought to   
himself.  
  
He thought of leaving Marguerite here and going to check it out, but he   
didn't want to leave her alone. If someone was in the castle, she'd be helpless   
while she slept. He walked over to her and lightly touched her shoulder to wake   
her. He eyes flew open and for a second she didn't remember where she was. She   
looked like she was about to call out so he quickly put his hand over her mouth.  
  
"Shh, Marguerite, it's me. I need you to be quiet."  
  
She looked at him and nodded. He removed his hand and she asked,   
"What's happened?"  
  
"I don't know but we need to find out. I need you to come with me," he   
said.  
  
Marguerite slid out from under the covers and quickly put her slippers on.   
Roxton grabbed his rifle and Marguerite picked up her pistol. They walked into   
the hallway.   
  
"John, all the torches are lit," she whispered. "Did you do that?"  
  
"No, make sure you stay close," he warned.   
  
They made their way to the staircase. Roxton made sure that the way was   
clear before they proceeded. Midway down he stopped to listen. The music could   
be heard clearly, as could people talking. It sounded like a celebration was going   
on.  
  
"John, this is crazy. How can a party be happening here? The dinning room   
is a mass grave. And how do we explain to the people just what we're doing in   
their home?"  
  
He turned to look at her and that was when he saw the woman coming down   
the stairs. He stood up quickly as did Marguerite. He expected the woman to   
scream when she saw them, instead she acted as though she didn't even see them.   
Then she walked right through Marguerite, not past her, but through her.  
  
"Oh my god," she exclaimed. "Did you see that?"  
  
"I did," Roxton said, completely confused.  
  
"John, she was a ghost."  
  
Roxton just shook his head back and forth in disbelief. Then he took   
Marguerite's hand and they made their way down the stairs. As they moved down   
the long corridor they looked out the windows once again, but this time instead of   
seeing a wild overgrown mess, they saw beautifully manicured grounds. Several   
servants stepped into the corridor and walked past them heading up the stairs.   
They were probably going to prepare the bed chambers for the night.  
  
When they stepped into the entrance room they saw several people walking   
back and forth having a good time. Roxton and Marguerite walked right into the   
middle of the room. No one paid them any mind. No one saw them. A woman in   
a luxurious dress walked past and Roxton quickly stuck his hand out and watched   
as it went right through her.  
  
Suddenly a loud gong rung out.   
  
"Dinner is served," a young servant called out. Roxton noticed that the   
servant had tattoos on his face.  
  
"They must have used the local natives as servants," Roxton said.  
  
Marguerite quickly looked at the faces of other servants and saw that they all   
had tattoos. "You're right."  
  
They watched as the family walked from the ballroom into the dinning   
room. A sudden realization came over Marguerite, and she found that she knew   
exactly what they were about to witness.  
  
"Roxton, I don't want to see this," she said.  
  
"See what?" he asked.  
  
"Roxton, everyone is about to die!"  
  
"Sweetheart, these people are already dead. Their ghosts."  
  
"Yes, but if we stay here we are going to see how they came to be ghosts,"   
she said.   
  
"Come, we'll go back to the room," he said and turned to leave, but then he   
stopped. Coming into the entrance room from the corridor was at least two dozen   
natives, all with tattoos like the servants had on their face. Leading them was a   
man, dressed like the other family members. The natives seemed to be taking   
orders from him. Then a beautiful native woman walked into the room. She had   
long black hair that fell to her waist. She wore an outfit rather similar to   
Veronica's, except her skirt was longer. She walked up to the man who was giving   
orders and kissed him passionately.  
  
"My father won't let us be together, but we we'll fix that. When we're done   
we will rule," he said.  
  
"Yes, my love." Then she whispered some kind of magic spell and blow a   
bluish powder into his face. Once he inhaled the powder he seemed even more   
enchanted with her than he had before. He wrapped his arms around her and began   
to kiss her passionately. Finally she broke the kiss and told him it was time.  
  
The man and the natives charged into the dinning room. Marguerite buried   
her face into Roxton's chest when the screams and cries for help began. Roxton   
held her close and tried to comfort her. In a moment the only sound that could be   
heard was that of an infant crying.  
  
"Not the baby," Marguerite whimpered.  
  
"Shh"  
  
Soon, even the baby was silent. The native woman just stood and smiled at   
what had happened. The man walked out of the dinning room and went to   
embrace her once again.   
  
"Now we can be together," he said to her.  
  
"I'm afraid that isn't going to happen," she replied.  
  
He pulled back to look at her. "What are you talking about. I did all of this   
for you! I murdered my family so we could be together."  
  
"Yes, and I'm grateful that you did, but you see, my people are tired of   
living under your rule. Even you have benefited from torture inflicted on us. We   
were free before your family came here and forced us to work for them, and we   
plan to be free again." Roxton and Marguerite watched as she pulled a knife and   
plunged it deep into his belly and just as quickly pulled the knife out.  
  
The look of betrayal could be read on his face. He put his hands to his gut,   
trying to hold the precious blood in, but it was obvious the wound was fatal. He   
began to sway and soon fell to the floor.   
  
"I loved you," were the last words he spoke before he died.  
  
Lightning flashed and the clean brightly lit castle once again turned into the   
musty dark one that they had entered earlier in the day. The darkness was total.   
All the torches were out down here and the rainstorm blocked any light the moon   
might have cast.   
  
"We need to make our way back upstairs," he said.   
  
"I can't see a thing," she said.  
  
Roxton could feel her trembling next to him.  
  
"Listen, I want you to hold on to my waistband while I feel my way back to   
the room. It shouldn't be that hard. We need to get to the corridor and go down   
the length to the stairs. Then up the stairs and all the way down to the end of the   
upstairs hallway."  
  
Marguerite held on as Roxton led the way. They both moved slowly. Once   
Roxton felt the wall he just followed it the whole way. It didn't take them long to   
get to the corridor, and the windows allowed for just enough light for them to make   
their way to the stairs. Once they were upstairs though everything was pitch black   
again. But as they neared the room they had been using they saw the soft glow of   
the candles in their room. Roxton closed and locked the door behind them.   
  
He hurried to the fireplace and tossed two more logs on what was left of the   
burning embers. The wood was nice and dry and caught flame quickly. The   
crackles from the burning logs filled the room. Roxton turned to see Marguerite   
sitting in the sofa. He picked up one of the blankets he had used earlier   
and wrapped it around her shoulders.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked. She was being very quiet. She nodded her   
head. He sat down next to her and she leaned into him.  
  
"Roxton, that was horrible. Those poor people, and the children. Maybe the   
adults deserved it, but honestly, the children were innocent of any wrong doing."  
  
Suddenly, a bright light began to emanate from the center of the room. They   
watched as a man stepped out of the light.  
  
"You," Roxton exclaimed. He stood up in front of Marguerite, although   
how he was supposed to fight a ghost was beyond him.  
  
Standing before them had been the man from downstairs who had been   
stabbed by the native girl.  
  
"You must leave here," the ghost said. "If tomorrow midnight you are still   
here you will be trapped here with us forever."  
  
"Why are you telling us this?" Roxton asked.  
  
"I carry the blood of many on my hands," the ghost said. "The punishment   
for my sins is to relieve that night every night for all eternity. It has been over 20   
years since it happened. I barely even remember the reasons for why I did it. But   
the regret, the regret becomes a heavier and heavier burden to bare with every   
passing night. I need no more victims trapped in this house. Tomorrow when the   
sun rises, you must leave. Leave or else." Then the ghost stepped back into the   
light and disappeared.  
  
Roxton and Marguerite just looked at each other. Neither knew what to say.   
Roxton sat back down in the sofa next to her. Finally after several minutes went   
by in silence he said, "We really should try to get some more sleep. Morning will   
come soon enough and it's going to take us the better part of a day to get home. I   
think it's safe to say that what ever it is that haunts this place is done for the night."  
  
"Roxton, remember how earlier I mentioned that we should consider moving   
in here. Well, forget I said it. One night was plenty."  
  
Roxton laughed at that. "Come on, I'm tired and I sleep better with you in   
my arms."  
  
  
  
  
The next morning when they woke they quickly gathered the few items they wanted to take,  
and got dressed. Marguerite took one last look around.   
  
"We still don't know how this came to be here," she said.  
  
"The plateau guards it's secrets well," Roxton said.  
  
The left the castle and lowered the draw bridge. It didn't take them long to find   
their packs. Luckily there were no cannibals in sight today.  
  
"We should make it home before nightfall," Roxton said.  
  
"Good. I can't wait to get back and show the others. The professor is going to be  
absolutely giddy over his paper and ink."  
  
Roxton smiled at that. It was unusual for Marguerite to be excited for someone else.  
She had changed a lot in the last three weeks, but he now knew that she was going to be okay. 


End file.
